


Awake

by Illyrianwitchling



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Miracles happen, They deserved better, canon AU, dash of angst, dash of fluff, theonsa- freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illyrianwitchling/pseuds/Illyrianwitchling
Summary: Theon was injured in the Battle of the Dawn. Since that night he has been in Sansa's care. Everyday he sleeps and she finds herself wondering if he will ever wake.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Awake

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Have a little Theonsa drabble I wrote using the prompt "Oh you're alive." "Don't sound so disappointed"  
> This is drabble un beta'd so all mistakes are my own. With that being said enjoy!  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160721222@N05/49115891783/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 

It had been two weeks since the dreaded Battle of the Dawn. Two weeks since his body was found lying amongst the dead in the Godswood. However dead he was not. His eye lids were shut tight and his breathing ragged, and shallow. She knew gazing down in his almost still state there was but little chance. They were just reunited she wouldn't give up on him. After many moons Sansa finally felt him in her embrace, finally tasted the salty seaf off his warm lips, and spoke words of love to him. She was a stubborn wolf and would not give up.

Sansa had Theon brought to her chambers that fateful morning. Every day and every night she cared for him in his unconscious state. Talking to Theon as if he could hear her stories of when they were but a child. When their biggest fears were scoldings. Or for Sansa, Arya who liked to interrupt her needlework and flick her meal at her sister.

No matter how many days passed Sansa held onto hope. Kissing his temples, his lips, or cheeks. Watching the slow rise and fall of his warm body. She clung to that like a knight holding his sword in battle. There were times she simply stroked his darkened locks and sung of Florian and Jonquil. Sansa would think of the tale she heard so long ago. She'd laugh a pitiful laugh, into the emptiness of her chamber. Who was the bigger fool here? Theon for coming to fight or Sansa for hoping he'd wake.

Today she awoke from her chaise, stretching and yawning. Pulling her furs tight over her shift dress. Morning beaming through the arched windows casting shadows and dancing sun rays throughout the room. Her cerulean eyes followed them down to his body. Like he was a rare treasure just waiting for her to reach out and take it. Sansa regretted not sliding her slippers before crossing over to him. The flooring was cold to the touch as she moved with purpose towards her beloved. Theon laid motionless on her featherbed, a thick fur blanket pulled up to his bare chest riddled with fainted lashings. His arms resting by his side, dry lips slightly parted, he looked peaceful as he slept. No longer filled with pain and trauma. That was the only thing she favored in this state. 

Reaching out Sansa brushed the soft curls from his face, "Good Morning, Theon," placing a feather light kiss to his brow, "My day is busy, Queenly duties I'm afraid," sighing with longing before she continued, "I'll come to check on you when I can. Would you like me to sing or read tonight?"

Her answer was the sounds of servants outside her door going about their day and the low cackle of her fire. From him? Nothing. Perhaps he will forever be in a state of sleep. Her heart sank at the mere thought of it. Deep down she knew every passing day that her hope was slipping through her fingers, like melting snow. Placing a kiss to his temple as she stood turning to cross into the second chamber. Silently Sansa meandered through the stone walled room making her way to the chair in her front of her vanity. Sitting down as staring at her reflection in the mirror, noticing the shining wetness in her eyes. Like the sun dancing on the ocean waves. She inhaled then exhaled taking a deep breath.

_You're a Lady of Winterfell. You're a Stark. You're a Tully. Be strong._

Repeating the words over and over in her head like a prayer until the urge to cry feigned. Picking up her brush, Sansa ran the bristles through her scarlet hair waiting for her handmaiden to arrive. She didn't mind, it kept her hands busy. Mid brush she froze hearing a low groan erupt from the other chamber. Her heart beat wildly as if it was a wild beast trapped in a cage. Then there was another groan and the sound of rustling sheets. In a blur of motion Sansa jumped out of the aged chair scratching loudly against the surface. Her hands pulling at the hem of her shift dress. Running as fast as her feet could carry her. The Old Gods finally heard her prayer. Theon Greyjoy was sitting upright in her bed.

"Oh," she gasped, her eyes brimming with tears and a smile so wide and bright she could melt the wall, "Thank the Gods your still alive," Sansa threw her arms around him knocking Theon to the bed. Quickly she rose taking his warm hand in hers, helping him sit, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to knock you down," 

"Don't sound so disappointed Sansa," he groaned voice rough and thick with sleep, "I might think you don't like me," he quipped.

"Already with the jokes?" taking his face in her hands gazing into his sea colored eye. Reminding her of the wave she would watch at King's Landing down by the docks, "I've missed you. I- I was starting to think you'd never wake."

His hands covered hers as he licked his lips, "But I did."

"You did," crashing her lips to his.


End file.
